


You Said to Dress Nice

by FeyPenDragon



Series: LegsForSeven2020 [2]
Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dominant Lio Fotia, Galo Thymos Being an Idiot, Galo is so weak for Lio, Lio also has an enormous schlong fight me, Lio is actually so smitten, M/M, Punishment, Top Lio Fotia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:35:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23650945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeyPenDragon/pseuds/FeyPenDragon
Summary: Lio and Galo go to a formal event, to which Galo wears leggings because he thinks they're fancy. Un-FUCKING-believable. Lio cannot stand it.Day Two of the #LegsForSeven2020 gathering of the Legs For Days Society
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Series: LegsForSeven2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701445
Comments: 10
Kudos: 129





	You Said to Dress Nice

**Author's Note:**

> Continuing with [this prompt list](https://twitter.com/spacenipnops/status/1245456412874027009?s=20), I'm treating myself to a little top Lio and dumbass Galo. Y'all know Galo's ass would look fiiiine in really tight spandex, too.
> 
> Day Two Prompt: Business/Formal

“And what time are you meeting me there?”

“7pm sharp.”

“Good. And what are you not going to bring?”

“...”

“Galo.”

“...”

“Galo!”

“My Matoi.”

“Good boy.”

“Can't I just -”

“No. Absolutely not. This is a formal occasion and you will NOT embarrass me. Just dress nicely and don't. say. anything.”

“...”

“I'm sorry. I don't mean that. You're allowed to say nice things about me.”

“It's OK, Lio. You know I'm happy just being your arm candy for a night.”

“You'd better look the part, Galo, or I'm leaving you at home and bringing your Matoi as my date instead.”

“You wouldn't dare!”

“I would!”

“Matoi would never betray me like that!”

“A fair point. Still. Look sharp. Be there on time. See you later.”

“Yep. Later. 10pm.”

“GALO!”

“Kidding! I'm kidding. Aina knows - she's driving me, so she won't let me be late. I've got my change of clothes here. See you there at 7 on the dot.”

Lio hangs up before he can do any damage to his phone or the idiot on the other end of the line.

* * *

The mayor of Promepolis is not as prone to throwing extravagant parties as Kray was, but she's obligated to put on a bit of a show as the leader of a major city.

For their parts in saving the planet and thwarting Kray's insane plans, Lio Fotia and Galo Thymos have been at the top of most lists of Most Desirable Party Guests for a lot of public functions, even though it's been a year. They decline most of them, but the mayor's annual gala isn't an invitation to be refused.

So Lio pulls up to the red-carpet affair on his brand new tricked-out bike - the deep, cutting rev of the engine draws the attention of photographers and the waiting crowd of celebrity watchers.

Sitting up and putting a heeled boot down to balance, Lio pulls off his helmet and shakes out his hair, which falls back into its perfectly coiffed shape. The crowd eats it up, and cameras flash everywhere.

It is 6:59:43 when Lio kicks the stand and props up his bike, swinging his other shapely leg over and leaning with his trademark insouciant attitude.

At 6:59:51 he pushes up to stand on his high-heel boots and holds out his helmet expectantly. A valet rushes in to retrieve it, and carefully wheels his bike away.

At 6:59:57 he counts down from three with his expression going from bored (3) to displeased (2) to peeved (1).

It is 7:00:00 and he steps forward onto the red carpet with no one on his arm.

He's plotting a bloodbath in his head when he strikes his first pose on the carpet, serving lewks and attitude in every photo being snapped up like next season's handbags from the back of a van.

Clad head to toe in black, his electric hair and pale face stand out like a beacon. His skintight pants are velvet with leather knee details. His jacket is two spike-studded leather halves joined at the back by a pane of chainmail. Lio slides the jacket off with fluid nonchalance, showing his backless, black silk blouse with its high collar. High-heeled boots in black patent leather make him look several thousand feet tall.

Someone in the crowd screams in ecstasy.

“Wow! Lio! Lio Fotia! Over here! Lio! This way Lio!”

Lio levels his steady gaze at each cry for his attention, and only moves to turn to the other side of the red carpet.

As he turns, he bumps directly into the broad, warm chest of one Galo Thymos, who is late, but beaming down at him.

“You're late,” Lio grits out.

“Am not. I was right behind you while you were taking pictures.”

“You ruined my entrance.”

“I thought it was perfect.”

Lio purses his lips and narrows his eyes, but lets it slide. For now.

“You're dressed,” Lio notes, taking in the crisp black shirt, the peackock-blue tie and calf-length mandarin-collared jacket lined with satin of the same color. Lio bought that jacket for him, insisting he needed to A) put on a shirt at some point and B) may as well not look like a hobo while doing so.

“You look incredible,” Galo says.

“Yes, I do. Now get in the pictures or get out of the way.”

Galo extends an arm and Lio hooks his hand around a breathtakingly firm bicep with the smallest of squeezes to acknowledge the gesture.

Together, they turn and let the cameras get their fill of the hottest couple in Promepolis.

Step and repeat. Step and repeat.

They finally make it to the steps of the venue, giving a last look over the shoulder for the cameras as they ascend, arm in arm.

They're standing in a circle of admirers at the cocktail hour when Lio gets the distinct feeling that something is...not quite right.

He steals a glance at a mirrored wall and sees nothing amiss with his reflection.

His eyes dart to Galo.

Shirt? It's still clean - they've only had a cocktail so far.

Tie? Somehow the galoot managed to tie it properly.

Jacket? Neat as the day he bought it, looking good on those broad, muscular shoulders and firm chest that...

_Focus!_

Shoes? Polished. New. Black. Good.

Pants? Black. Tight. Can't really see them under the long jacket but they're showing off his calves...

Lio squints and a tiny furrow appears between his perfectly sculpted eyebrows.

**Those.**

**Are.**

**Not.**

**Pants.**

“Galo,” he hisses.

Galo is talking about firefighting with someone Lio doesn't recognize.

“Galo!” he tries again, louder but through gritted teeth.

“Oh, hey, what's up babe?”

“If you could excuse us for just a moment,” Lio says to no one in particular before yanking Galo by the arm and heading for the nearest private space: the waiter's corridor.

“GALO.” Somehow Lio manages to scream at him without raising his voice.

“What?”

“YOU'RE NOT WEARING PANTS.”

Galo's cheeks turn beet red and he looks down slowly, expecting to see the worst. Like the actor's nightmare of arriving on stage with no lines memorized, in the wrong play, pantsless.

He lets out an explosive breath of relief when he sees he's not naked from the waist down.

“Ha! Good one, babe! You almost had me there! I can't believe you actually pranked me!”

Lio makes a choking noise and his eyes nearly pop out of his head.

“ **GALO SHITTING THYMOS YOU ARE WEARING. FUCKING. LEGGINGS.** ”

“Yeah! They're the fancy kind!”

Lio's mind races and recalls the thousands of flashing cameras, the staring eyes, the entirety of the red carpet where they walked down together.

“WHY? ARE? YOU? WEARING? LEGGINGS? GALO?”

“You...you told me to?”

“I -” Lio is unable to continue. Instead he gapes like a fish, no sound coming out.

“You said to dress nice. You always tell me that my pants are too baggy, and that I should wear something more...'form fitting'. To dress up. That's...what you always say...”

“I -” yet more silence from an absolutely confounded Lio Fotia.

Galo blinks at Lio's stunned expression and waits for the compliment that will never come.

Meanwhile, he takes his jacket off and turns in profile, to show off the ridiculous swell of his thighs and ass, barely contained in a tight-stretched layer of 80% Rayon 20% Spandex in matte black.

The bulge of his dick - stupid big even at rest - is unequivocally visible, and now the world knows he dresses to the left.

He also, somehow, has managed to do a lopsided French Tuck, which, in a bizarre twist of circumstances, disguises the fact that he isn't wearing a belt.

“Do I look bad?”

The steam gauge of Lio's brain oscillates wildly between apoplexy and arousal, and he's never been more uncertain in his life whether he wants to kill Galo quickly, kill him slowly, or just fuck him stupid. Well, stupid-er.

“You -”

Galo turns again, his backside on display, and Lio.exe shuts down when he sees the word BURNIN' printed in elaborate silver script across the seat.

“We're leaving,” Lio says after his brain reboots.

Galo waggles his eyebrows. “Like what you see, huh? Can't wait to get me home?”

“Now, Thymos.”

Blue eyes go wide with surprise at the ice in Lio's now-quiet voice.

Before anyone else sees them, Lio drags Galo by the arm out through the service entrance and spots the valets smoking in the alley before they have to get back on duty.

“You!” Barks Lio, and everyone in hearing range jumps.

The valet who parked Lio's bike recognizes him - of course, who wouldn't recognize him - and rushes off.

He's back a moment later, wheeling the bike from around the back. He hands the keys to Lio, who gives him a tip.

As in, a piece of advice.

“Fuck the cops,” Lio says, seriously. Then he shoves the helmet down on Galo's head and mounts up, Galo behind him, arms around his waist.

With a crack like a gunshot, Lio revs up the engine and they speed away before anyone can process what's happened.

* * *

“Lio! Come on! Say something!”

Galo is still following along helplessly as tight-lipped Lio frog-marches him up to their apartment and shoves him through their front door.

“Please! Talk to me! Are you mad? Are you horny? I can never tell!” Lio pushes him to the bedroom.

For a man of such small stature, Lio Fotia is like a giant in heels, and it's less than a heartbeat before they're standing, face to face in the dim light through the bedroom window.

“Strip.”

“Oh, so it's horny time...no? That's not horny face...OK...” Lio shoves Galo in the chest and sends the taller man stumbling backwards, falling to the floor at the foot of the bed.

“Take. Off. Your. Fucking. Clothes.” Lio puts a single booted foot on Galo's chest. “Don't make me tell you again or I swear to Burnish I will fucking kill you.”

Lio removes his foot then looms over Galo as the taller man shrugs his jacket off and leaves it in a pile on the floor. Then he loosens his tie and unbuttons his shirt, letting them fall on top of the jacket beside him.

Galo kicks off his shoes - no socks, Lio notes with a frown - and hesitates only for an instant before lifting his hips to pull the world's tightest pair of leggings down below the swell of his ass.

“Stop,” Lio says, and Galo does.

Lio looks down at the confused and blushing man on the floor, leggings squeezing his legs together, bare ass on the hardwood. Of course Galo isn't wearing underwear. Of-FUCKING-course.

Galo moves his hands over his crotch in an oddly innocent gesture. Sweet boy that he is, he's deeply misguided in thinking his hands can hide that half-chub he's sporting, visible even though it's still held down by spandex.

“Up. On the bed. Like that.”

Perched on the edge of the bed, Galo fidgets as Lio disappears for a moment then returns with a bottle of lube.

He steps into Galo's space and bats away his hands, hooking slender fingers into the waistband of the leggings and pulling them down.

Galo's cock springs free, but his thighs are held tight by the leggings rolled down over them. He squirms.

Lio hoists Galo's legs up and pushes him onto his back, legs in the air, holding him under the knees.

“Hands where I can see them. No touching. You don't fucking move until I say so.”

There's no time to react before Lio lands a sharp slap to the exposed skin of Galo's ass, making him gasp, gripping the sheets.

“Galo. You wore leggings to a formal event.”

“Yes, Lio.”

“Do you know why we're here?”

“Because you think my leggings are sexy?”

Another slap, harder. Galo bites back a cry.

“Try again.”

“Because you think my leggings _aren't_ sexy?”

A third slap, grazing Galo's balls that peek out, trapped between his raised thighs.

“B-because they're n-not the right pants for a formal event?” Galo is breathless and gasping.

Stony silence, but no slap. Lio rests Galo's legs on his shoulder and reaches over for the lube, flipping the cap and drizzling it cold down Galo's crack, uncaring if it gets on those damned leggings.

Lio runs his fingers through the slick lube and unceremoniously shoves two of them into Galo's hole.

Galo barely holds back a shriek, letting it dissolve into a shiver.

“Listen to me, Galo, and listen good. Leggings,” he says, punctuating each word with a thrust and twist of his fingers, “are NOT formal wear. Can you repeat after me?”

“Leggings...aaaaaaahre- not...formal wearrrrrrrrrrghhhhhhh,” Galo manages to gasp out.

“Again. Until you have committed this fact to memory.”

Galo repeats the phrase over and over as Lio continues to punish his ass with two, then three, then four slender fingers, zeroing in on his prostate with vicious accuracy. His breathing is shallow and hard, panting between repetitions.

“Next time I trust you to dress yourself, trust you not to embarrass me in public, you had better remember this fact, Galo. If there even _is_ a next time.”

“Lio - please, please I -”

“What, Galo? What? What? Fucking WHAT?”

Through his babbling, Galo finds the words to say, “I'm sorry, please forgive me, _please_. I didn't mean it! I didn't mean to embarrass you! I thought they were nice! I...I...”

Galo wriggles and writhes in Lio's iron grip, hips thrusting uselessly as he tries to fuck back onto Lio's fingers that seem to rake over his prostate.

“Tell me Galo. Tell me what you thought. Because whatever it was, you were wrong.”

“I...I thought...hrrrrnnnnnnnngggg...I thought...looked nice! I liked the way I looked!” Galo cries, and perhaps an actual tear is shed.

Lio's fingers come to a sudden halt.

“ _Please_...I'm sorry! I didn't think I would embarrass you so much! I tried! I wanted to look good for you! I wanted to feel good for you! I wanted you to want to be _seen_ with me! To _want_ me! I thought I could...I wanted...want...want...”

Eyes wide at this admission, Lio's heart sinks a little at having made Galo feel so small. Remorseful as he can be, he sets about making up for it. He smooths Galo's brow, and he whimpers, leaning into the touch.

“Shhhhh, Galo, baby, honey, sweetheart, you're so good, don't worry, I forgive you. I didn't mean that. You did look good. You looked so good, so good. Shhhhh. I want you. You're so good for me baby, don't worry.”

Lio lets Galo's legs bend over his shoulder as he unclasps the front of his own velvet pants, now excruciatingly tight around his steel-hard dick. Freeing himself, he lines up and pushes in smoothly in one go, biting at the leggings and the firm flesh of the thigh beneath the thin spandex. And this time Galo moans, loud and deep.

“Baby your ass looks too good in leggings. _Too_ good. You can't wear them outside like that. You'll cause a riot. You're gonna kill me with them. You can't do that. It's only for me, OK? Only I get to see this ass. Mine. Mine, OK?”

Lio coos and cajoles as he thrusts in and out, pushing down on Galo's legs as he fucks into him, one hand snaking around to stroke firmly at Galo's neglected, untouched cock. Galo is a babbling mess beneath him, voice hoarse from breathing hard and crying out.

“Yes, yes Lio only yours I'm only yours only HHHHHHHHaaaahhhhhhh LiooooooOOOOOOOHHH!”

Galo gives a last broken shout as cums like a firehose, splashing his chest and face with ropes of sticky cum, clenching so hard that Lio loses his rhythm and shoves his hips forward jerkily.

He cums one, two, three thrusts later, inhaling sharply and filling Galo up even as the taller man shakes with the aftershocks of his own release.

Breathing hard, ragged breaths, they ride out the quakes, high and hot.

“Lio. Lio, I can't feel my legs.”

“That's because you don't have any legs, Galo.”

“...”

“You looked, didn't you?”

“Just making sure.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked this one! Spicy enough?
> 
> EDITOR'S NOTE: In case you didn't see the prompt list was from the unstoppably talented Spacenipnops, please PLEASE look at their [absolute A+ Promare fan art](https://twitter.com/spacenipnops/status/1227306461358960640?s=20) that really inspires me to write more Top Lio.
> 
> If you're interested in more leggings love, check out the rest of the fics in this series even though they're not PROMARE related (Hero Academia and Beastars, baby!). If not, then I hope you got your Galo-in-tight-pants fix today! <3


End file.
